No! I refuse to believe that
by 221Bwholockian
Summary: A year after Sherlock's death, and John still hasn't moved on. Something inside him keeps telling him that Sherlock will return. I don't really know what else to put here... I have know Idea where this story is going to go...just an idea that popped into my head. Also the rating is again debatable as for I don't know where this is going.
1. Chapter 1

No! I refuse to believe that

Chapter one: Night

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John walked though the kitchen of 221B Baker Street, out to the sitting room where he stood debating weather or not to go to bed. He knew he would not be getting any sleep tonight, he never does, but tonight especially. for tomorrow was the one year anniversary of Sherlock's death.

His best friend died a year ago tomorrow. John has not moved on but it seems like everyone else has. He didn't understand, how they just act like nothing happened. Everyone else's life has went back to nominal. Lestrade, Anderson, and Donovan still work at scenes together; Mrs. Hudson still saying that she's not his housekeeper and yet she still bring him tea and biscuits Molly still working in the morgue; Mycroft still working for the Government; But as for John, his life is miserable, everywhere he looks it reminds him of Sherlock. Thinking of Molly and Mycroft, they seem to be the less affected by Sherlock's death.

"Why? Why can't I just move one like everyone else?" John sighed. He tried, he really did. He did everything he could think of to get on with his life, but something inside of him told him that Sherlock would come back, somehow.  
John looked at the clock on wall it was 2:27 a.m. and he decided it was as good as time as ever to go to bed.  
he walked into his room, set his tea on the side table, and crawled into bed.

he tossed and turned all night. He woke three hours later in a sweat. He had the worst dream. he dreamt that he-John Hamish Watson -had pushed Sherlock Holmes-his best friend-off the building to his death. But instead of falling to the pavement, Sherlock fell into a recycling truck parked near the hospital. Why would he do that? Why would he try to kill his best friend? and why did Sherlock fall into the truck? Why didn't the dream end like the rest of them-Sherlock lying on the pavement in a pool of his blood and himself on his knees crying next to him while the bystanders try to pull him away.. John sat on the side of his bed, putting his head in his hands and wept. He sat there for awhile before he thought he heard the soft music from a violin coming from the sitting room.

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**A/N: Sorry it's short... I wrote this after a math test...funny when things pop into your head at random times... :) Review and tell me what you think! **


	2. Chapter two: His Blogger

His Blogger

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John could not believe his ears. Was he really hearing violin music, or was his mind just playing tricks on him. There's only one way to find out. John wiped his eyes and made his way to the door of his room. When he reached his door he took a deep breath, ready for the disappointment to follow when he opens the door. He couldn't do it, he couldn't stand to get his heart broken again.

John let go of the door knob and sank to the floor. He pulled his knees up to his chest and just listened to the soft hum of the violin. after awhile the violin stopped and John decided that he had to go out and face the hard truth. he took a deep breath, stood up and walked to the door. just as he wrapped his hand aound the door knob,the music started again. That's it someone was playing a trick on him, a horrible, insensitive trick. John ripped open the door ready to yell at the jerk that was putting on this trick. But when he opened the door, he lost his voice. He slammed the door shut.

"NO! Now I have lost is! hearing the violin was bad, but now I'm seeing him, in the flat playing it! I refuse to believe that! He's dead, he's no longer here. What is wrong with me? Why can't I just forget him!" He was shaking now, tears streaming down his cheeks. The violin music still floating around the room. John couldn't stand this insanity, so he did the only thing he could do. Face it. After a few deep breaths he wiped the last few reaming tears off his cheeks and mustered up the nerve to open the door again. This time he was ready for the shock. He open the door and there he was, facing Sherlock's back.

Sherlock was facing the window playing the violin. listening to everything around him. He smiled when he heard John open his door and then slam it. He wanted to go to him, he wanted to apologize for going away, but he knew John needed to come to terms with him being back his own way, so he kept playing the violin. Sherlock's smile grew when he heard John's door open for a second time. He wanted to turn around and see _his Doctor _but he knew that would end bad, so he waited for John to make the fist move.

"Sher...Sherlock is that really you? Or have I just gone completely insane " John needed answers now. he debated whether or not to call Lestrade and talked to him about what he though he was seeing. Over the past year he and Greg have become quite good friends. John called him once a week and they talked about the case Lestrade was working on or about the latest news on the telly, stuff John could never talk to Sherlock about. But now, standing in front of him stood that man, and he didn't know if he should be angry or happy or sad or what. John was watching Sherlock's reflection in the window, he saw him smile. That made him angry. "Don't you smile! Don't you dare! You think you can just walk into this flat like you still live here?" He saw Sherlock's smile disappear fast, but he didn't turn around. John felt bad fo yelling at him. "Sherlock, please turn around and tell me what the hell is going on."

Sherlock did not expect John to yell at him. That hurt him, but he knew it was just shock...he hoped. He knew John was sincere when he asked him to turn around. Sherlock sat down his much missed violin and turned to face John. What he saw hurt him more than words ever could. In front of him stood a John, but not the John he knew. This John was different, his cheeks were tear stained, his eyes were red and puffy and he looked tired. Sherlock's heart ached for his friend. "John, I'm sorry." tears were beginning to form in his eyes.

Hearing Sherlock say that he was sorry, and to see that he was going to cry made John start to cry. He ran to Sherlock a wrapped his arms around him as tight as he could. He could feel Sherlock's heart beat and he knew this was really happening Hot tears started to perk up in his eyes. John buried his head in Sherlock's chest. God he really did love this man, but he was not gay.

Sherlock was beyond happy when John wrapped him in a hug, and buried his head into his chest Sherlock rested his head on top of John head. Tears falling from his own eyes, and yet he had to smile. He missed his Blogger. John moved his hands from Sherlock's waist to he chest, and grabbed a handful of Sherlock's coat. He was getting tear stains on Sherlock's shirt, but neither of them cared.

"John want some tea?" Sherlock asked. John nodded but he didn't move. "John, look at me." He reluctantly looked up at Sherlock and wiped his eyes. "I'm here for good now. I'm not leaving anytime soon." He offered a smile. John loved that smile and smiled back. "Good, now tea." John let go of his coat and wiped his eyes again. Sherlock removed his coat and scarf and hanged them on the back of the door. John noticed that Sherlock was wearing that tight purple shirt, that shirt was a perfect fit for him. He loved when Sherlock wore that shirt-But he's not gay.

"I missed you Sherlock, my life was so miserable while you were gone." John admitted to him as they walked to the kitchen.

"It must have been so dull." Sherlock smirked again. "No experiments?" He asked jokingly when he open the cupboard.

"Sherlock, I don't want to offend you, but you died."

"Yes I know...I was there. But I didn't." Sherlock replied and continued to make tea.

"But how...you were dead. I felt you had no pulse."John was confused.

"It's an old trick, John. Just a simple ball under my arm and it stopped my pulse in my arm." Sherlock confessed and poured the tea into two mugs.

"Okay, yeah, right. But how did you, you know not die when you hit the pavement?"

"The truck John, The truck! I jumped into the truck, Molly and another nurse put the blood on me and the pavement after I got out of it. They guy on the bicycle works for Mycroft, he had to drug you."

"Why? Why did you do all that?" John asked as he took the tea from Sherlock.

"Moriarty had three gun men. One on Lestrade, one on Mrs. Hudson, and one on you. The only three people I care about. and the only way to stop them was to jump." Sherlock and John walked into the sitting room, John took a seat in his chair and Sherlock in his. John sat his tea on the coffee table in front of him. Sherlock moved his hand on top of John's. they looked at each other. "But John, it doesn't matter now. Moriarty and his men are dead, and I here forever now. So do worry about it. I'm fine." John smiled he loved this genius, but he's gay.

"Sherlock..."

"Mmmh?"

"We have to tell Lestrade Anderson, Donovan, and Mrs. Hudson. Then deserve to know. especially Lestrade and Mrs. Hudson. they took it the hardest." John moved his hand and sat back in his chair.

"In time John." Sherlock told him. John gave him the 'that's-not-the-right-thing-to-do' look, he sighed 'Okay fine. We'll go to the yard tomorrow and tell them. And Where is Mrs. Hudson?"

"She's out for the week, some family thing." John said satisfied with Sherlock's answer.

"Ah." Sherlock sat back and started drinking his tea. They sat and talked about the last year for hours both content in their life.

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**A/N: Longer this time! :) little Johnlock in there for ya! ) **

Not done yet... one more part!


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